


Five Kisses at Midnight

by machka



Category: American Idol RPF, Bandom: Axium, Bandom: MWK, Real Person Fiction, Tulsa Gangstas
Genre: F/M, Five Things..., M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-04
Updated: 2009-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 02:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/machka/pseuds/machka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's always someone to kiss at midnight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Kisses at Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> For [**courts**](http://courts.livejournal.com/profile)'s New Year's Eve "Midnight Kiss" challenge: "Ooo, also, if you are home like me and bored, I challenge you to write a story about who DFCook is kissing at midnight :)"
> 
> Courts, this is all your fault. :P
> 
> Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. The events described therein are not intended to represent actual events. No libel or defamation is intended in posting said fictitious work.
> 
> In other words, it's not real, because I made it all up.

  
**  
_Five..._   
**   


"Yo, Bobby!"

He flinched at the sound of Dave's voice, shouting his name across the crowded bar. He rounded his shoulders and hunched over his drink, rolling the beer bottle restlessly between his palms.

"Hey, Kerr!"

Dave's voice was louder, now; maybe held a touch of uncertainty, if you knew how to read it -- and Bobby had known Dave for much of their lives, so he knew how to listen.

A hand clapped to his back, and a chin propped itself on his right shoulder.

"C'mon, man," Dave muttered into his ear, "They're gettin' ready t'drop th'ball, man, les'go..."

Bobby forced a smile to his face, and cocked his head slightly to meet Dave's eyes. "Yeah, okay, man..." he began, and wasn't given a chance to finish before Dave's fingers interlaced with his own, and he was dragged off of his bar stool and back onto the ridiculously tiny stage where they'd spent most of the night.

"Aw'right!" Dave was yelling into the mike. "Les' hear some _noise_ out there, KC!"

The crowd responded with hoots and yells as the countdown to midnight began. Dave glanced over at Jeff with one of his broad, easy grins, and Bobby felt his heart tug in his chest.

Dave turned to face Bobby, bellowing the count along with the club's patrons, his breath warm and heavy on Bobby's cheek, smelling of stale beer and fresh cigarettes. He slipped an arm around Bobby's back with a gentle smile, and dragged him snug against his side as he turned to the TV screen in the corner.

"Three...two... ONE! Happy New Year!"

Jeff began cranking out a power-chord version of "Auld Lang Syne" on his guitar, and the crowd around them joined in as Dave began the lyrics, his eyes wide and wet with emotion. His grip on Bobby tightened as he began to sway in place, and the mass of people clustered around the stage followed his lead.

"For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne...We'll take a cup o' kindness yet, for auld lang syne..."

As the chorus drew to a close, Jeff's chords were drowned out by the cheers and applause from the crowd. Dave flagged down a passing waitress with several flutes of champagne still left on her tray, and handed them out to his bandmates as they clustered together in the middle of the stage.

"Fuck them 'Milk" people!" Dave declared loudly, raising his glass high. "Here's to the best God-damned independent band in the fucking _country!_ " He glanced around at them with wide-eyed joy, and Bobby nearly lost his composure then and there.

"I love you guys," Dave continued, "And here's to many more years in the future. Happy New Year!"

"Happy New Year," Bobby responded quietly, his voice overpowered by Jeff's and Travis's, but Dave didn't seem to notice.

They clinked their glasses lightly together and took their sips, and Dave slipped his arm around Bobby's waist, throwing his head back with wild, exuberant laughter.

It was all too much -- too much closeness, too much guilt, too much sorrow at knowing he would be the one to take that laughter away...

He twisted away from Dave's side. Startled, Dave grabbed at his arm, studying his face questioningly.

"Bobby, what's--"

"I can't!" Bobby blurted out. "I'm sorry, I just--"

He stopped himself before he said too much -- tonight was not the night for this discussion, it was coming soon enough.

"I'm so sorry, Davey," he repeated. Darting closer, he pressed his lips quickly to Dave's. "I can't."

He turned his back and fled, rushing out the door into the cold night air, watching the ebb and flow of people on the sidewalk a moment before stepping in, allowing them to sweep him away in their current.

Frowning in confusion, Dave could only watch him go. Standing like a statue at center stage, he touched his tingling lips with his fingers.

He wondered why they still felt like they were burning.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

 ** _Four..._**  


"David, _sweetheart,_ it's almost time! You'd better grab a glass of champagne now, or you won't be ready when the ball drops!"

He grimaced mildly at her wheedling tone, but clenched his jaw and faked a smile as he swiveled on the barstool to face her.

"Okay, Lizzie baby, I will," he replied, forcing a happy lightness into his voice that he hadn't felt for her in far too long. "Don't worry, okay?" he continued, reaching out to squeeze her hand gently. "I promise, sweetie, I'll be ready when it happens..."

"Okay," she answered, mollified for the moment. "I'll be with Trish and Jim at their table, 'kay?"

"Sure, hon, I'll be right there..." he began, but she had already turned her back and disappeared into the crowd.

He turned back to his Scotch and soda with a sigh, throwing back the dregs and setting the glass heavily on the bar.

"Another?" asked the bartender, and he shook his head wearily.

"Naw, man, it's almost _time!_ " he simpered, and the barkeep shot him a knowing and sympathetic smile. "I'll take a glass of champagne, though, if you've got it..."

"Yeah, sorry, we only sell it by the bottle," the bartender replied with a shrug. "I'll give you an empty glass, though -- I'm suspecting your girl and her friends are pretty well set..."

Dave sighed again and ran his fingers through his hair, tucking it behind his ear. "You're probably right, man," he exhaled, and slapped a few twenties on the bar beside his empty tumbler. "Keep it, man -- you've been very good to me tonight, and thank you for that."

The bartender brushed a few fingers over his brow in a salute and slid a champagne flute across the bar. "Y'better go find your girl, bub -- looks like the countdown's gonna begin here in a bit..."

He grasped the glass with a nod and threaded his way through the crowd as the buzz and hum in the club rose around him. He spotted her with her friends at their table in the corner, and sure enough, there was a bottle planted in an ice bucket waiting for his arrival.

"Hurry _up,_ David!"

He could feel Tricia and Jim's eyes upon him as they studied and sized him up, judging him and his clothing and his appearance as usual, and always, _always_ finding him lacking... He found himself gritting his teeth again, but forced the action into a tight smile as he approached.

" _Hurry,_ David!" Liz repeated, and snatched the glass from his hand.

Jim rose fluidly to his feet and poured the champagne, filling the glass only half-full. "Mustn't mix our alcohol too much," he murmured sardonically, with a toothy smile that bordered on a snarl. "We wouldn't want any hangovers in the morning, am I right?"

"Jesus -- judgmental much?" Dave snapped, and longed for the opportunity to punch that smug look off of this rich bastard's face...

"David, stop it this instant -- you're embarrassing me!" Liz hissed into his ear, pulling him back and pressing the champagne flute into his hand. "Now shut up, would you? The countdown's starting!"

He turned his back to her friends rather coldly, and stared moodily at the projection TV on the wall as the familiar countdown rose up around him.

God, how had he ever let her talk him into this? He could've been in KC with Andrew and Jeff and Travis... Could've even been in Tulsa, with Andy and Bryan and Neal... But _no,_ he was stuck here in St. Louis with the snottiest couple to ever consider themselves God's gift to the planet. He _hated_ her friends.

The cheers rang out around him. "Three...two...ONE! Happy New Year!"

Forcing another plastic smile, he turned back to the table and raised his glass for the toast. He was ignored, of course, and that wasn't so much surprising as infuriating, so he pulled his arm back and drained the glass in one gulp, disregarding the knowing looks being traded among them.

Liz's hand was on his forearm, and he inclined his head to listen.

"Look, David, I know that this is not your idea of fun," she said softly. "Thank you for coming tonight, I really appreciate it..."

He smiled in spite of himself, a genuine one this time, and bent down as she rose up on her tiptoes. Their lips met in a warm kiss.

"Happy New Year, baby," he murmured, and she smiled back.

"Happy New Year, darling," she replied, sliding an arm around his waist as she lifted her glass. "Here's to your solo album -- may it bring you all the success you long for, and may I be there by your side, to share it with you..."

"Here's hoping he settles down for you, Liz," Tricia piped up from the corner, raising her glass in another toast. "You spend too much time on the road, David," she continued, and Dave could feel his smile freeze and start to fade. "Liz needs you here at home, man -- you need to settle down and make an honest woman out of her!"

"I'll drink to that!" Liz giggled, dropping her arm to face her friend. "Seriously, Trish -- his band's all but dead now, you know, since Bobby left; and I just don't see how he'll be able to keep up with his schoolwork and still travel to Tulsa and God-knows-where-else without me by his side... I'm pretty sure he'll see the light soon enough, and I can't tell you how much it means to know you understand that..."

And there they were, talking about him like he was fucking invisible again.

Dave figured there wasn't enough booze in this bar to kill the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, nor the anger in his soul, but damned if he wasn't going to try it.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

 ** _Three..._**  


"Okay, guys -- does everyone have a shot glass?"

"Wait -- where's Heartthrob?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake..."

"He's gotta be in the bathroom again... Hang on, I'll get him..."

"Y'better hurry, Skibby - it's almost time, y'know..."

"Relax, Tiemann, I'll have 'im out here in plenty of time."

Andy pressed his way through the crowd, heading for the restrooms in the rear of the packed club. Hands, arms, hips and asses jostled against him from all sides, but alcohol had made him just numb enough not to care, and it suited him just fine.

He saw a flash of orange and purple plastic against a grey shirt moving through the human sea ahead of him, and adjusted his trajectory for interception.

"Davey! Over here!"

His quarry paused, glancing about uncertainly, and Andy shoved the remaining patrons aside with a heave and an apology.

Dave staggered backwards in surprise, rebounding off several drunks to regain his footing, if not his composure. Blinking blearily at Andy, he raised the champagne bottle in his hand.

"Andy! Gotta refill, buddy - y'wanna share?"

"Naw, that's okay, Davey, maybe later," Andy declined with a smile, linking arms with Dave to steer him toward the stage.

"Wait -- where're we goin'?" Dave slurred, stumbling over his own feet slightly.

"Back on stage, sexy -- the countdown's about to start, and you still have to pick a name, remember?"

"Oh yeah..." Dave agreed, leaning into Andy heavily enough to nearly change their course. "...Wait -- what?"

"Your arm, you drunken bastard," Andy replied, shaking his head in mock despair. "Remember? You're taking names for the midnight kiss?"

"M'arm?" Dave mumbled, and glanced down at his right arm linked through Andy's. "Holy shit, m'arm!" he bawled, wrenching it away as he balked to a stop. "What th'fuck iz'zis?"

"Hey, man, it was your idea!" Andy explained, waving desperately at his bandmates on stage. "You said it was the only fair way to choose who you'd kiss at midnight..."

"But I don' _wanna_ kiss anyone," Dave protested, raising his arm to just inches from his face, studying it closely as Neal rushed to Andy's aid. "I don'even _know_ half these p'ple..."

The stubborn asshole set his jaw and dug in his heels, refusing to budge, and Neal glared up at Bryan for additional help.

"Oh! Hey, 'Brain'," Dave greeted him affably as Bryan joined the mission. "Did'ya see what happ'ned t'my arm, Brain? What th'fuck?"

"Yeah, man, it's really cool, isn't it?" Bryan replied, prying the champagne bottle from Dave's grasp and passing it off to Neal, indicating the stage with a jerk of his head. Rolling his eyes, Neal climbed the stairs with bottle in hand.

" _Hey!_ M'booze!" Dave whined, forgetting his arm, and Bryan slid in against his other side, throwing a wink Andy's direction.

"Yeah man, c'mon, let's go get it!" Bryan said, and nudged his friend gently forward. "Okay, dude, one step at a time, here we go..."

"Al'right, ladies, it's the moment you've all been waiting for," Neal announced into the mike as the trio tripped up the steps to join him. "Mister Dave Cook is going to pick the lucky lady that gets his midnight kiss!"

The women in the room began to cheer as Andy and Bryan shoved Dave forward. Neal grabbed him and spun him around to face the audience, covering Dave's eyes with his hands.

"Okay, Dave," Neal continued as Andy grabbed Dave's right hand, twisting his arm back and forth to "shuffle" the names. "Are you ready to pick?"

"...No..."

"Do it anyway!" Neal hissed into his ear, and Dave flailed his left arm in Andy's direction.

His finger landed solidly on a name, and Bryan clapped a hand over it to hold it in place.

"The choice has been made," Neal intoned solemnly, and Josh began a drumroll behind them as Andy cracked up from the absurdity of it all. "Mister Bryan Jewett, would you read us the name?"

Bryan lifted his hand from Dave's carefully, and bent down to peer closely at the name beneath Dave's finger.

Andy should've known it was trouble when even the roar of the crowd beginning the countdown behind them couldn't drown out Bryan's maniacal laughter.

"Bryan?" Neal asked, puzzled, and Bryan gestured wildly for the microphone.

"The lucky lady is...Mister Andy Skib!" Bryan sputtered, barely managing to spit the words out before dissolving into laughter again.

Dave stiffened as he froze in place, his eyes widening with panic.

"What?!" Andy barked, and two loud female whoops from the side of the stage made him curse out loud. He leaned forward to read the name beneath Dave's suddenly-trembling finger, and raised both his head and his middle digit to the women just off-stage, falling over themselves in hysterics.

"Oh my _God_ , Jennie! You and Lexie are so fucking _dead!_ " he yelled, and shook Dave lightly to rouse him from his stupor. "Pick again!"

"No time, man," Neal snorted from behind him, barely suppressing his giggles. "The choice has been made, man, y'gotta stick to it... Besides," he continued, bowing his head to murmur in Andy's ear, "You know you really wanna..."

Andy jerked away, glaring daggers at the redhead smirking back at him. "You! You put them up to this, didn't you," he snarled, and Neal broke into a wide grin. "You're next in line for homicide, Tiemann..."

"Totally worth it, man," Neal fired back tauntingly. "It's gonna be totally fuckin' _hot._ "

"Three...two...ONE! Happy New Year!"

"C'mon, loverboy -- kiss your dream date!" Neal chuckled, and pushed Andy forward.

Dave's eyes were still wide, but Andy could see they were mostly pupil from where he stood, and Dave was giving him this _look_ that was shooting right to his dick. Andy watched Dave's tongue flick out nervously to wet his parted lips, and found himself rushing forward, crushing his mouth to Dave's, chasing the retreat of Dave's tongue with his own, ignoring the shrieks of laughter and camera flashes from his sister and girlfriend off-stage.

It took several seconds for the consequences of his actions to sink in, for the resultant wolf-whistles and shouts of approval from the crowd to drive Andy back.

"Sorry! Sorry," he panted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I don't--God--Sorry!"

He turned on his heel to flee the stage, never hearing what Dave whispered to his retreating back.

"...I'm not."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

 ** _Two..._**  


Donnie had never seen Dave looking more miserable than he did tonight.

He was still the consummate professional, though; never neglecting any of his customers in the slightest, Donnie had to give him that -- but the way he was leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed and shoulders slumped; the way he was staring at his bandmates with an almost distant look in his eyes; the way his entire demeanor radiated such defeat...

Donnie very much doubted Dave had considered any of this, when he'd signed up for _that._

He stepped behind the bar and leaned against it, propping himself up on his elbows as he studied Dave's face.

"You doin' all right there, David?"

He saw the small shake Dave gave himself, watched him pull his thoughts together, saw the heavy exhaled breath that Dave used to steady himself, and Donnie had his answer before Dave even had a chance to lie.

He let him do it anyway.

"Yeah!" Dave answered with forced brightness, plastering on a smile. "I'm great -- why wouldn't I be?"

"'Cause you want to be up there with them."

Suddenly restless, Dave pushed away from the counter and grabbed a dishrag from the sink, scouring the bar needlessly.

"Look, Dave... As far as I'm concerned, if y'wanna go up there and sit in on a couple songs, I wouldn't mind -- I can cover the bar for awhile..."

Dave shrugged and hunched his shoulders almost defensively, shaking his head.

"No, Donnie, you _know_ I can't do that..."

Donnie poured himself a Coke and settled in next to his bartender, facing the band on stage, noting well where the lead singer's eyes were constantly being drawn.

...There was a longing there, too, that was difficult to miss.

Donnie sighed, and glanced back at Dave.

"Look, man, I'm just saying -- you're fucking miserable, David; and I know how much you hate watching them from back here. They're your friends, all right? Nobody's gonna say anything..."

"Just leave it, okay?" Dave slammed his fist against the bar, making Donnie's glass jump. "I signed a fucking _contract_ , Donnie, so do me a favor -- shut the fuck up and stop pushing!"

His mouth snapped shut at the end of his diatribe and he fell silent, furiously scrubbing non-existent dirt off of an already-sparkling tumbler from the dish rack.

Donnie saw the way his jaw was working, and waited patiently while he regained his composure.

"Donnie, look... I appreciate the sentiment. I really do," Dave continued, clipping his syllables emphatically. "But this is a big deal to me, okay, and I don't want to fuck this up. A chance like this...it means everything, man; it might be my last chance, y'know, to _do this,_ to do what I want to do for the rest of my life, to take these guys," -- he indicated the stage with a jerk of his head -- "Out of this place, and into something _bigger,_ and it means the world to me, and... I know what you're trying do, man, but I just _can't_..."

Donnie clapped a hand on Dave's shoulder and squeezed. "I know, man. I'm sorry."

Dave shook himself again, turning his attention back to the stage as the singer cleared his throat at the mike.

"Okay folks, it's almost midnight here, and we'll be taking a little break while they drop the ball, an' then we'll be back to play a few more for you... I know, I know, settle down... But first we're gonna do one last song for 2007, all right?" He paused as the small-but-respectable audience cheered, and again his eyes found their way over to the bar, and to Dave, standing behind it like a sentinel.

"This last song is from our new EP, coming out this spring... It's called 'Anodyne', an' I hope you like it..."

Donnie heard the strange choking sound Dave made, saw Dave's hand twitch across an imaginary fretboard on the bar, watched as he silently mouthed the words... He knew what it meant, and he knew what it was doing to Dave to be reduced to a mere spectator.

He laid a gentle hand on Dave's back, leaving it there until the song was finished.

"I need a break," Dave whispered as the last notes faded and the crowd cheered.

Donnie nodded, and gave him a light shove. "Go."

He burst out the front door of the club into the crystalline cold night air. Slumping against the wall, he watched the clusters of people wandering up and down First Street onto Detroit Avenue, staggering slightly and clinging to each other, laughing aloud, so damn happy and carefree that he hated them instantly.

"Hey."

He glanced up sharply at the soft voice, and met a pair of all-too-familiar eyes.

"Hey," he replied quietly, and dropped his gaze to the ground as Andy slouched against the wall beside him.

"You okay, Davey?" Andy asked

"Yep! Never been better."

"...You're lying," Andy responded, and Dave heaved a sigh.

"...I know."

A faint snort of laughter from his companion, and Dave felt the corners of his mouth tug up slightly.

"So -- you hear from Jennie?"

"Way to change the subject, Heartthrob," Andy scoffed, but his voice was gentle as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Matter of fact, yeah -- she's been texting me almost non-stop. Apparently, she and Alexis were somewhere in the middle of Times Square..." He scrolled quickly through his inbox, and snorted again. "Looks like they're both plastered, as usual -- she shouldn't drink and text, seriously -- but they've apparently made it back to Lexie's apartment with her roommates, and they're still going strong."

"Y'miss her?"

Andy snapped his phone shut and shoved it in his pocket. "Well, duh."

"Wish you were there, instead of here?"

"Naw, man, not at all," Andy replied, shooting him a sideways smile. "I'm here in Tulsa, making music with my friends -- what more could I want?"

" _Now_ who's lying?" Dave teased, and Andy cracked a smile.

"Shut up Davey, you know it's true..." He slumped back against the wall again and studied his own shoes a moment before continuing to speak.

"I miss having you up there, Dave. I don't know what I'm going to do when you go."

Dave shifted to face him, grinding his shoulder into the wall. "You'll do what you're doing now -- you'll go out there, and you'll kick ass, and you'll go on without me."

"...It won't be the same."

"I know."

Andy heaved a sigh this time, and he suddenly looked so unhappy that Dave's heart twisted in his chest.

"Andy." He waited for his friend to glance up. "Seriously, man -- I'm gonna go to Los Angeles--"

"--And you'll kick all kinds of ass--"

Dave snorted. "--And they'll either love me or hate me--"

"--They'll love you, man, seriously--"

"--and soon enough, it'll be over, and I'll come back home, and we'll be making music again, together, just like I'd never left." He shuffled closer to Andy, and nudged him slightly with his shoulder. "Hey, man, I promise, okay?" he murmured, "It's gonna be all right."

"I know..." Andy locked eyes with him, staring intently. "Who knows? Maybe I'll follow your ass out there, wait and see."

"Now _that_ would be silly," Dave replied softly, but a part of him was hoping desperately for it to be true.

A sudden hush fell over the street as the clusters of people with them and hundreds of voices inside the bar behind them took up the ritual chant.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!"

"You wanna go back inside, Andy?"

"Seven! Six!"

"Naw...I'm good..." He stepped closer, his eyes unreadable.

"Five! Four..."

Dave shifted uncertainly. "More pretty girls in there to kiss..."

"Three...two..."

Andy shrugged, pressing Dave bodily against the wall. "...Who says I want to kiss a girl?"

"ONE!"

Dave blinked as Andy's fingers wound into his hair. "...Again?"

"Yup. Happy New Year," Andy breathed, and covered Dave's mouth with his own.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

 ** _One..._**  


"Hey, man, I'm goin' t'get another beer in th'kitchen -- you guys want anythin'?"

"Naw, I'm good, Neal, thanks... Hey, Kim?"

She glanced back at them from where she was bent down in front of the television, switching out DVDs. "What's up?"

"Y'want anythin' fr'm th'kitchen?"

"No, thank you, Neal," she replied, smiling coquettishly over her shoulder, and wiggled her hips playfully. "I'm all set, thanks..."

Dave snorted as Neal rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, you guys... Sixx, c'mon!" Neal addressed his dog, and Sixx heaved to his feet at the sound of his name, tail waving slowly, cocking his head and his ears as Neal spoke. "Let's go get us some pretzels and beer, buddy, what d'ya say?"

Sixx let out a low bark and followed his master, his toenails clicking a brisk tattoo on the parquet floor.

"There's a good boy..." Neal's voice floated back down the hallway, and Dave smiled.

"Kim, sweetie, you know I love your ass, and all..." he called out, "But seriously, darlin', if you keep standing like that, I'm gonna have to come over there and spank it."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," she replied, wriggling her hips again.

"Yeah -- and so would you."

"Yup!" She giggled softly. "Almost done here, you fucking horn-dog..."

"Not fast enough!" he declared, jumping to his feet and charging.

She squealed loudly and straightened up, swinging around to face him as his broad hands spanned her hips.

"Got'cha," he murmured, and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, momentarily stilling her laughter.

Kim slipped her hands up to his shoulders and leaned back, studying his face. "This really isn't how you wanted to spend New Year's Eve this year, is it?"

Dave tilted his head curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Well, wouldn't you have rather gone out to a club, or, I dunno, stayed in Vegas with the others?"

"No..." Dave drawled, stretching the vowel as long as it would go through pursed lips. "No way, babe -- I had enough of that, the past few years. This year, I really did want to spend a quiet night at home--"

"But with your friends, right?"

"You guys _are_ my friends--"

"But we're not who you _really_ wanted here, are we?"

"You _are_ \--" Dave stopped himself, smiling patiently. "What are you getting at, Kim?"

"Just look at us, here -- you, your guitarist, his horse of a Great Dane, and your 'beard'. Not exactly a rockin' New Year's Eve, I'm just sayin'," she replied, giving his shoulders a little squeeze.

"Kim, you're not--" Dave sighed, pressing his forehead against hers. "Sweetheart, you're not my 'beard'. You're my girlfriend," he said softly, kissing her again. "How many times do you need to hear that before you realize it's true?"

"I'm not saying it's not true, David -- I'm just saying that the person you really want to be here, isn't."

"If you're referring to Andy," he replied, knowing full well that she was, "He texted me earlier, saying that he and Jennie were hitting the strip tonight... Kim, no matter what's happened between us, I'm happy, I promise. _He's_ happy. Just accept it. Please."

"That's all I really want," she murmured back, cradling his face in her hands.

"I know."

"Jesus Christ! Get a room, you two!" Neal bellowed from the doorway, with a booming Sixx bark for emphasis, and Dave hugged her tightly as they both dissolved into laughter.

"Ooh, David!" she gasped, catching sight of the clock. "It's almost time..."

Neal hit a button on the remote and switched back to broadcast TV, just in time for the cut to the tape-delayed ball-drop.

"Aw, shit, we missed your song," Kim pouted, but Dave only laughed as they flopped onto the couch.

"Oh, you know I hate watching myself on TV, darlin'..."

"Doesn't matter anyway, cuz I Tivo'ed it," Neal replied smugly, sprawling on his belly on the floor next to his dog.

"Shush, you," Dave retorted, bouncing a pretzel off Neal's head.

"Shush, both of you," Kim interrupted, giggling softly. "They're counting!"

Dave's phone began to vibrate in his pocket and he fished it out, not bothering to look at the caller ID before answering.

"Dave?"

"Andy?" He straightened up slightly in his seat, and Kim shot him a knowing smile, resting her hand on his knee. "Andy, what are you doing -- aren't you guys out on the strip?"

"Well, yeah, like you couldn't tell from all this noise," Andy replied, laughing gently.

"Why are you calling, man?"

"Well, shit, Dave -- this New Year's Eve stuff, it's kind of a _thing_ now between us, and... Well, you know, I couldn't let that ball drop without calling you."

"Geez -- does Jennie know?"

"Does she know? Fuck, man, she's standing right here!"

A faint "Hi, Dave!" in Jennie's high voice carried over the connection, and Dave snorted.

"Okay, okay... Kim's here too. What now?"

"Well, we wait for the ball to drop..."

"...And pretend?" Dave asked softly.

"...And kiss our girlfriends, yes," Andy replied, the smile evident in his voice even over the hundreds of miles between them.

"Three! Two! One!"

"Happy New Year, y'stupid dog," Neal growled, planting a kiss on Sixx's quivering nose.

"Happy New Year!" Kim squealed, throwing her arms around Dave and pulling him close.

"Happy New Year, Dave," Andy said across the miles.

"Happy New Year," Dave answered them all, closing his eyes to kiss his girlfriend tenderly.


End file.
